Tag: Landscape Photography

Motel Du Beau Picture of the Week

Motel Du Beau - This 1929 establishment was one of the first to cater to tourists driving those new-fangled motor carriages.
Motel Du Beau – This 1929 establishment was one of the first to cater to tourists driving those new-fangled motor carriages.

When Queen Anne and I spent a week in Flagstaff last month, our primary goal was heat relief, but I was confident that I could snap a few shots of historic buildings and signs to add to my Route 66 collection. In this journal, I’ve written several times about my experiences traveling the Mother Road as a kid, so I’ll spare you from repeating them. Instead, I must say that I was disappointed at how hard it was to find kitschy motel and dinner signs along the main street. More profitable strip malls and professional offices are rapidly replacing them. Interstate 40 travelers prefer the newer hotels on Butler Street, where the Little America Hotel is. Nobody drives 66 anymore—too many lights and too much traffic.

John Steinbeck’s novel The Grapes of Wrath, the depressing story of dust bowl migrants, searching for survival, didn’t make Route 66 famous. Nor did that fame come from my father’s generation, who—like the Joad family—moved en masse to California after World War II. It came when Angel Delgadillo—the Seligman barber—pitched a historic highway idea to the State of Arizona. When that designation came through, tons of beer-guts had a play-pen to gather and drive their car toys. We’re dying off now, and like the coals in your Webber Grill, that passion is dying with us.

Master photographers Ansel Adam and Minor White influenced how I photograph the world. Still, in 1975, the George Eastman House showed a photo exhibition called The New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-Altered Landscape. The show still floats between museums today. It was a collection of ten photographs made by ten photographers that were opposite the landscapes I embraced. It was heresy. The photos are stark images of industrial buildings and houses devoid of people. I didn’t even think some of the artists printed very well. But I did kind of like the ones John Schott did. His pictures were of Route 66 motels. You can see where this led.

Flagstaff Train Depot - Either this is new or I've been blind, but the coolest Route 66 sign that I saw was the train station's address.
Flagstaff Train Depot – Either this is new, or I’ve been blind, but the coolest Route 66 sign I saw was the train station’s address.

I’ve considered compiling a book of my Route 66 photos. I have several, but most are from Arizona, with a couple from California and New Mexico, but nothing east of Texas. If this horse hadn’t been flogged to death, I still could work on my own Mother Road project. Now that I’m retired, I have time. I figure a month on the road should do it. To do it properly, I’d have to drive a classic car—something from the ’50s or ’60s. However, it needs air-conditioning, cruise control, and a good stereo (I won’t put up with AM radio stations dropping out under bridges). My ultimate ride would be a red ’62 Corvette—like the one Buzz and Todd drove—but hold the whitewalls. I could haul my camera equipment behind it in a small aluminum trailer like the autocross guys lug their race tires. October is a perfect month for a road trip, so if anyone out there wants to be my Angel investor, let me know. You’d get all the bills, half of the proceed, and a free book out of the deal.

This week’s featured image is of a prominent Flagstaff landmark. It’s called Motel du Beau, and the subject is the sign. It’s one of three hotel signs towering above the city (can you guess what this month’s project is). With the Lowell Observatory on top of the hill, Flagstaff has adopted a dark-sky policy, so the zoning people would never allow these enormous signs in town. If they weren’t historical landmarks, the city would tear them down.

In the late 1920s, Albert Eugene Du Beau vacationed in northern Arizona and envisioned a new way to make money. Instead of building a multi-story building for railroad and train travelers to stay, why not create a place for people traveling in these new-fangled motor cars? So, he designed and built a single-story motor-hotel (later shortened to motel) to be convenient to unload and load their vehicles in 1929. His design featured a U-shaped layout with steam-heated garages (they burned down in a 1970s fire) and indoor toilets. He built his motor court adjacent to downtown’s main street, which was brilliant because, in time, the busy highway became Route 66. The Motel Du Beau was one of the pioneering businesses to use neon signs and elevate them on towers.

In today’s modern world, the Motel Du Beau still looks like a nice place to stay, with rooms starting at $75—a far cry from the original price of $2.50 per night. Their website shows various room types, and they have a lovely little wine lounge called Nomads. I’d certainly be willing to try it after they reopen the bar.

I hope you enjoy seeing a part of Flagstaff’s history. You can view my Motel Du Beau web version on its page by clicking here. Next week, we’ll look at another historic Flagstaff motel sign, so be sure to join us then.

Till next time
jw

Secret Passage Picture of the Month

Secret Passage - The only door between units that I noticed was this one.
Secret Passage – The only door between units that I noticed was this one.

I’m going to shake the box and change the format of this week’s post because I want your advice on something. This is the last photo from Walnut Canyon, and I’m sure you’re tired of my bellyaching about stairs, so I’ll start with the background of this week’s picture, and then we can go into the conference room for the other thing.

This week’s picture shows a doorway between dwellings at Walnut Canyon. Since it’s hidden in plain sight, you probably wonder, “What’s the secret?” Well, as I hiked past ruin after ruin, this was the only inter-unit doorway I noticed. We may never know the secret— why weren’t there more of them.? Sinagua built their dwellings with shared walls, like our present apartments. I wonder if neighbors were extended family or strangers. The door suggests that family shared these homes—but it could also mean that the Sinagua Rockefellers lived here, and this unit was their equivalent of a south-facing Manhattan penthouse overlooking Central Park. As usual, there’s a larger version on its Webpage that you can get to by clicking here.

“Now, for something completely different” – Monty Python

I use my favorite coffee cup religiously in the mornings, and when I can’t find it, I panic. I search everywhere until I see it in the microwave. It was in there because I was heating yesterday morning’s dregs and forgot about it. I had it custom printed with one of my photos, but the picture is worn after six years of use. Reluctantly, I ordered a new one.

New Cup - On the front of my new coffee cup, I printed my photo of Dos Cabezas Mountain.
New Cup – On the front of my new coffee cup, I printed my photo of Dos Cabezas Mountain. Now that I’ve used it several times, I won’t order the black trim again. In the early morning, it’s hard to see where the coffee is with sleep in my eyes.
Coffee Cup Back - On the back, I put the title and some advertising.
Coffee Cup Back – I put the title and some advertising on the back.

When it arrived, I thought, “These could be great little contest prizes.” In the past, Queen Anne and I sponsored contests and gave away a photo as a prize. That’s how we got a name for Anne’s Mazda and our famous campfire treats. Now my brain is nagging me to work on another idea.

The second component is my annual calendar. As some of you know, I assemble pictures into my calendar and offer them for sale at cost. Because I usually print less than a dozen, their price is much higher than a Costco calendar, but I typically get a few subscribers that want one. After several years, I’ve figured out a system to make them come out as planned.

The next ingredient is these weekly posts. Over the years, my articles have evolved into a dependable format. Each month I pick a location, shoot pictures, and then publish the best photo each week. As Emeril Lagasse used to say, “I think I can kick it up a notch; Bam!”

My idea is: What if I added a picture of the month (POM) to the mix, and you helped choose them? Let me explain. At the close of each monthly project, I include a survey (like the example below), and you choose the picture you most liked. Of course, I could be the Supreme Leader and pick what I want and be done with it, but over the years, I’ve learned that my taste isn’t the same as the public’s. So a poll makes it more like the People’s Choice Awards instead of the Oscars. After three days(?), we tally the survey; I’ll lay out a design and print the winner on a mug—like a trophy. Then when calendar time rolls around, I will already have a dozen winning images selected.

What’s in it for you? I already have too many coffee cups, so I’d like to give them to you. The problem is that I don’t know how to give them away equitably. Each computer (or phone) gets one recorded vote with this survey app. The polls are anonymous, with no tracking, so I don’t know who’s voting. I can’t say, “The fifth voter wins the cup.” I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out a solution, but it pulled a synapse and passed out. I need your ideas.

Another question that I have is how limited the cups edition should be. I can’t imagine that any of you would pay $12 plus shipping for a $5.00 Walmart mug, but who knows? I am inclined to print one and be done, but I could limit it to a low number—such as five—if you prove me wrong.

I’m looking forward to reading your thoughts. Does this concept interest you? Should I grow messy white hair like Einstein’s or shave it off like Curly’s? Would you vote for a cup? What’s an excellent way to pick a winner? You can share your opinions by leaving a comment below, or if you want privacy, then use my Contact Form (the answer to the robot question is “5” if you can’t figure it out). I’ve included a poll so you can see how simple this is. Pick your favorite and click the Vote button. There’s no cup this month, but see if you can break the survey in beta testing.

Till next time
jw

Galleon Tile Picture of the Week

Galleon Tile - One of the more unusual tiles that I found in Avalon.
Galleon Tile – One of the more unusual tiles I found in Avalon.

Unless you’re one of those people oblivious to the world around them, one of the first things you notice as you walk from the ferry to your hotel is ceramic tiles. They’re everywhere. They’re on the buildings, walls, and stairs, covering the central fountain on Crescent Street. You may wonder, “What’s up with all those tiles?” To help explain, here’s the Cliffs Notes version of the history of the tiles.

The soil in Southern California—including the Channel Islands—has abundant clay deposits. That’s a good thing if you’re a potter or want red tile roofs adorning Spanish Revival Architecture, which is historically prevalent in the L.A. basin. It’s not something I’d do, but after William Wrigley (the chewing gum tycoon) bought Catalina, he thought he’d benefit somehow if he lured some tourists there. One of his strategies was to add glitz to the drab buildings—like putting ornaments on the Christmas tree, as it were. He’d seen the Mediterraneans adorn their homes with ceramic tiles in his worldly travels. So in 1923, he started the Catalina Pottery and Tile Company. The factory started manufacturing traditional Moorish designs but added pictorial tiles featuring exotic birds, fish, and large-scale murals as they grew. They were an instant hit.

Southern California architects and designers wanted them for their projects, so the tile company soon began shipping the colorful ceramic squares to the mainland. Their popularity spread like wildfire, and in the ’20s and ’30s, the Catalina Tile Company sent products worldwide. Sadly, fashion is fleeting, and the demand for Catalina tiles declined in the late ’30s early ’40s. Eventually, the Wrigleys shut down the factory.

Avalon Fountain - The water fountain in the center of Avalon's business district, is covered with Catalina tiles.
Avalon Fountain – Catalina tiles cover the water fountain in the center of Avalon’s business district.

Years of vandalism and neglect began to take a toll on the historic Avalon tiles. After the turn of the millennium, Avalon’s city council hired a local artist to restore the town’s central fountain (unfortunately, I couldn’t discover her name). Still, the legend says that homeowners commissioned her to bring the rest of the town back to life once she began working on the fountain. She hand-made copies of the originals and didn’t have time for other projects. She spent the remainder of her life restoring Avalon’s history.

During our May visit, I assigned myself a sub-project. Before Queen Anne rose from the dead in the mornings, I got up and scoured Avalon for unique tiles. The Moorish patterns found on the walls and fountain are common, but I was hunting the pictorial specimens—like a personal scavenger hunt—or today’s geocaching like my brother-in-law—Don—does. Along the backstreets, I found several unusual ones, and this week’s featured image is my favorite. It depicts Cabrillo’s (the Spanish explorer and first European to visit—and name—Santa Catalina) galleon. Someone glued it to the stucco wall of a residence. The tile looks new, although the wall is damaged. I included the stains and marring in this composition. I also really like the blue/yellow contrast in this image. I titled the photo Galleon Tile.

This is the final post of our Catalina adventure. It’s hard for me to leave and return to the hot, damp desert. Next month, I’ll start something new next week, in some other pleasant location. I hope you liked seeing my Avalon images and reading my stories. In case you want to see more, there’s good news. I published another new book titled Avalon—Romance Twenty-Six Miles Away. With this publication, I decided to skip Amazon because they don’t add to the marketing—they only tack on 15%. So, if I’m not going to sell books, I can not sell them in the publisher’s (Blurb) bookstore cheaper than not selling them on Amazon. But wait! I thought of you—my loyal subscribers. I sprung for a PDF version that you can download at no charge; that way, you can look at the additional pictures and print your copy for your library.

Avalon - The book is now available in the Blurb Bookstore or free to download here.
Avalon – The book is now available in the Blurb Bookstore or free to download here.
    • If you want to see the hard copy on its listing page (you can scroll through the book), click here.
    • If you want to download the free pdf version (you can save it to your hard drive), click here.
    • If you’d like to see a larger version of this week’s featured image, click here.

Till next time
jw

Harbor Fog Picture of the Week

Harbor Fog - A dense fog covers the Avalon Harbor.
Harbor Fog – A dense fog covers the Avalon Harbor.

Do you have a bucket list? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a list of things you’d like to see or do before you die. The concept existed before Rob Reiner’s 2007 movie The Bucket List (starring Jack Nicholson, Morgan Freeman, Sean Hayes, and Beverly Todd), but maybe the film made this type of to-do list more widespread.

As I wrote at the beginning of this month’s project, we chose to go to Catalina because the island was on Queen Anne’s list. She’s bugged me for years about going. We had a lot of fun, so I’m happy we went. However, more adventures remain on her list, including seeing the Northern Lights (she claims that she’d settle for the Southern Lights, but I’m not sure that’s the truth). Anne is always showing me deals on Iceland tours from Travel Zoo. The hitch is that the best time to see the lights is in the middle of the night in winter. I can’t imagine dragging her from a warm bed into the freezing night.

I’ve never honestly compiled my bucket list. I married a wonderful woman; what more do I need? Besides, if I had such a list, I’d be afraid she’d kill me if I finished it. She’d say, “You’ve had your fun; now it’s time for you to go.” That’s why we’ll never own a chest freezer.

After we returned from Avalon, Anne asked several times if there was something that I wanted to see or do. I’ve been thinking about it since. In my late fifties, I realized that I was never destined to be rich or famous, so dreaming of yachts, private airplanes, or exotic cars was a waste of my time. With that burden gone, I’ve had time to learn about the poor slob I am. Over the last couple of decades, I’ve winnowed my hobbies so that I can concentrate on photography. Since I retired seven years ago, I no longer call myself a designer or computer programmer. Now I’m a photographer, and I’m happy about that.

On the other hand, one goal that has eluded me involves fishing. Since my ex-brother-in-law introduced me to trout fishing, I’ve always dreamed of landing a fish over ten pounds. During our 2016 Alaska trip, I had my best (and last?) chance of accomplishing that goal because Fred and I were going after salmon. My best catch that summer was the nice silver salmon I landed on a fly. It was eight pounds. Close, but not cigar worthy.

I haven’t been on the water since, and I put that lunker idea out of my mind—until we got home from Catalina. When we researched adventures to fill out our week, I came across fishing charters, specifically fishing for tuna. I discarded the idea because this trip was to celebrate our anniversary, and leaving Anne alone in a sailor bar while I was out all day on a stinky fishing boat didn’t seem right. But sailing out into the open waters off Catalina’s west coast intrigued me. I prefer a nice piece of tuna over steak; they come in large packages. So, I started my first bucket list. Next, I have to research the best season and place to hire a boat—like the ones you in this week’s picture.

One morning in Avalon, I woke up and left to take pictures. When I went outside, I found dense fog. I might as well be in London. Since I’m used to the clear desert air, this was both a challenge and a treat. I ran around town, reshooting everything I had done over the past days but in the fog. I wanted to show the weather but still have a subject identifiable. This week’s image, which I call Harbor Fog, is the one that worked best. It was taken on the harbor’s north side looking south. I like how the morning sun tries to burn through the low clouds, how the boats fade in the distance and the faint hint of the pier buildings in the right background. What do you think—did I get it right, or should I stick to the desert? You can see the larger version of Harbor Fog on his Web Page by clicking here. Come back next week to see another side of Avalon.

Till Next Time
jw

Water Tank Picture of the Week

Water Tank - The Richardsons added a water tank on their to ensure there was water during dry periods.
Water Tank—The Richardsons added a water tank to their property to ensure water availability during dry periods.

 It’s a miracle! We changed seasons on Tuesday, and we had our first summer rain on Thursday night. Getting rain during summer isn’t unusual, but getting it so soon was. It was nice to finally break our six-month dry spell. It wasn’t a deluge, but enough to tamp down the dust.

Our storm cell came through at 1:00 am, and I listened to the thunder approaching in bed. The weather service says you can tell how far away the strikes are by counting the time between the flash and the thunderclap. “If you count the number of seconds between the flash of lightning and the sound of thunder, and then divide by 5, you’ll get the distance in miles to the lightning: 5 seconds = 1 mile, 15 seconds = 3 miles, 0 seconds = very close.” As I lay in bed, I counted one, two, three …, and then there were a couple of strikes where I didn’t get to finish the one. That’s when I got up.

When I did, Queen Anne was already outside—in the dark—dressed in a T-shirt and flip-flops, moving flower pots around so the rain could water them. I scolded and reminded her about the 3 S’s (snakes, spiders, and scorpions). She seemed oblivious to the blue-white lightning streaking dozens of miles across the black sky above her head. At first, I was concerned that the strikes would start another wildfire because they struck close around us. When the rain started falling, it eased my mind, and I quickly got bored and went back to bed.

According to forecasters, we’re supposed to have an above-average monsoon this season. That’s good because our drought has lasted nearly 20 years. I’m not optimistic that I’ll see a recovery in my lifetime. Climatologists told us of 100-year droughts in the past, and they conjecture that those dry periods may have caused the Anasazi, Sinagua, and other Pueblo tribes to move in search of water.

Water has always been a concern in the desert west. That’s as true today as it was when the Richardsons homesteaded their place in Union Pass. There was a spring near the pass that supported their cattle and orchard. Can you imagine hauling water up 3000′ from the Colorado River? Even with a spring, they need a healthy water reserve to get through the dry months.
As you can see in this week’s photo, Water Tank, they built a large tank on the property for water storage. From this image, I guess the tank dates back to when they made the gas station. The concrete foundation work looks similar to that of the pump island.

I’m sure vandals added the graffiti and bullet holes to the tank’s side after the family moved off the property. They are another example of vandalism that supports my argument that the BLM should set this homestead aside for protection. Otherwise, these ruins won’t be around much longer.

I hope you enjoyed our month at the Richardson Homestead. You can see a larger version of Water Tank on its Website by clicking here. Next week, we begin a new project in a different location. Hopefully, it will be somewhere cool. Please come back then and see what Queen Anne picked for us.

Till Next Time
jw